Never Apologize
by droppedmysonic
Summary: One thing Puck gets right – he knows what to apologize for and what to let slide, and he's going to teach Kurt that much before this is over. Rated M for future inappropriateness, violence, language. Yes, it's slash.
1. Chapter 1

The idea for this occurred to me while on Tumblr. Someone reblogged 37 things one should never apologize for and I figure it might actually be a decent writing exercise for me to start AND FINISH a fic using it as fodder. Yeah, 37 chapters might be a little ridiculous. Then again, there are several I doubt I can work in no matter how much I twist it, so it might drop down quite a bit.

_27. Never apologize for lack of information. Ignorance is acceptable. Staying ignorant, however, is stupid._

"Yeah, real funny, guys. I just love being thrown into closets and locked in there," Puck shouted through the door. He'd been asking for it, though. He and Finn had been trying to secretly intervene on the slushies and pee balloons and that whole getting thrown into the dumpster thing with the Glee Club members. He would never have admitted that he was taking pity on those nerds, but there it was.

"Hey, who else is in here?" he asked. He'd heard a small noise. As long as it wasn't a rat – after he'd read that story "The Pit and the Pendulum" in middle school he'd felt a slight sense of unease with the possibility of rats in dark places. The sniffle he heard quickly debunked that theory because as far as he knew, rats did not sniffle that loudly. He fumbled for a light switch and finding it, flicked it on.

Or not. Nothing happened. "Great. That's great. Hello? I know I'm not talking to myself, and if you don't want me to accidentally grab something that shouldn't be grabbed when I feel my way over there, you might want to spit it out."

"It's Kurt," came the quiet voice from a far corner. It was shaking slightly.

"Oh, you. The fact that you're a fag and you're in a closet is pretty ironic, isn't it?" He swore silently, knowing that the fact that he was also in the same closet was setting himself up for that one – but the expected retort never came. "Okay, I walked into that one and you didn't take advantage of it. Did they beat you up before throwing you in here or something?"

"No. Please just..."

Puck waited for the sentence to be finished. He waited some more before prompting, "just what?"

Kurt coughed a little. "Shut up and leave me alone because I am locked in a closet WITH YOU of all people and I really really really don't want to be."

His voice had started to rise in pitch halfway through the sentence and hadn't stopped until his voice had cracked on the last word.

"I don't see what the big deal is. I mean, if they didn't beat you up... It's just a closet."

"A small, dark closet with a locked door and limited air!" Kurt shrieked.

Puck looked at the obvious cracks in the door frame. "Uh, dude, I think we're okay on air." He then realized that the other kid's breaths were frantic. "I think you're hyperventilating." When no answer came, just more gasping, he smacked himself in the head for daring to ask, but -

"Why are you so freaked out?"

There was no answer and he wanted to smack himself again, but he began to inch his way over to Kurt. He aimed to grab Kurt's shoulder but accidentally smacked him in the face. "Sorry, I kinda missed there," he started to say, but was cut off by a terrified shriek. In true Noah Puckerman fashion, he reached the end of his rope and grabbed Kurt in a headlock. "What in the hell, Hummel?"

"I'm claustrophobic," he gasped out, still sounding terrified.

"Well, that's all you had to freakin' say," Puck growled, letting go. "Why?"

Sounds came from outside. It sounded like a scuffle, and suddenly the door swung open. Puck tried to jump at it and stick his foot in the open door but instead caught an armful of someone else being thrown in. "Oh, what the – who is it now?"

"It's me."

Puck sighed. "And if we didn't know your voice, who would 'me' be?"

"Oh, it's Finn. Hi, Puck. Who's 'we'?"

"Hummel's in the corner hyperventilating. He's claustrophobic, apparently."

Mumbling noises came from the very corner Puck had just referenced. "Dude, we can't hear when you mumble."

"It's your fault, you know."

Puck looked at Finn in confusion before realizing it was dark and the look was completely lost. "Okay, humor me." Apparently it was not the time for joking, though, since Kurt remained quiet.

After a few moments of silence, Puck turned to Finn. "As I see it, we can either attempt to break down the door or wait until they try to throw another kid in here with us – speaking of that..."

More scuffling noises were outside and Mercedes' angry voice came through the door. "What would your mothers say if they saw you manhandling a girl? What the – oh, HELL no, I am not going in that nasty closet."

Puck and Finn simultaneously started shouting. "MERCEDES, HELP!" It was mortifying to ask a girl for help but it was better than being stuck in a dusty closet.

"How many people you got in there, you freakin' idiots?" The sharp sound of someone backhanding another upside his 'idiot' head resounded in the halls. She yanked the door open and Finn and Puck spilled out of it.

"Kurt's still in there," Finn said.

Mercedes gave them a look. "Hold this door. You lock me in there, I'll break it the hell down and then I'll break you. Got it?" She stomped in and looked around, spotting Kurt in the corner. "Boy, what are you doing down there?" She grabbed him by the elbow and hauled him out. He still looked vaguely terrified and pinned himself against the opposite wall of lockers in relief. Apparently, the other football players had fled in response to the large, formidable girl's sudden anger.

"Claustrophobia," he whispered, breathing normally. Kind of. "Middle school."

Puck thought back to middle school. Ah, the days when the little twerps were small enough to fit into lockers.

Wait. Lockers.

"Is this about the whole locker-stuffing thing, Hummel?" Puck asked.

"It is indeed about the locker-stuffing thing, _Puckerman_," he replied, "and I really don't want to discuss it," he finished, standing up a little straighter.

Finn shrugged. "It couldn't have been that bad."

Kurt looked nonplussed. "I almost died the last time, so forgive me for asking but what in the world do you mean by 'couldn't have been that bad'?"

Mercedes shook her head. "Okay, calm yourself. You're getting extra all over the place. You did not almost die."

Kurt started laughing, a sick little laugh that meant that whatever he was about to say was far from funny. "I assure you, I did," he said, stalking away.

Puck, Finn, and Mercedes looked at each other. "What did you _do _to him?" she asked.

"Stuffed him in a locker a couple times. Then one time we went to stuff him in, he flailed like a cat next to a bath tub – _hey_, cats need _baths_ sometimes. Don't judge me. But yeah. So we gave up, and next year he was too big to fit in a locker, so..." Puck trailed off. "And that was when the slushie to the face was born."

"You know what," came an angry voice from around the corner. Resounding footsteps were coming closer and Kurt rounded the corner. "I don't give a damn about the slushies. Or the dumpster, and I can even stand the freakin' pee balloons, but that locker thing was _traumatic_."

Puck shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows and shrugging. "I really don't get it, dude. It's no big deal."

Kurt was fuming. "I was in there an entire weekend that last time. A _three-day_ weekend. It takes three days for a person to die of dehydration in a stressful environment. Add to that fact that I was already dehydrated from crying all day – and it's really fucking humiliating to get so desperate you try to drink your own piss and realize you can't because your arms are pinned to your sides because you're in a locker." he spat. "So you'll understand if I don't fucking want to be locked in a closet with one of the people who almost killed me!"

Puck was taken aback. "No. Like, someone would have said something. Like, I would have got detention, at least..."

"No one would have cared, so I didn't tell anyone. I told my dad I stayed over at a friend's," he hissed.

Mercedes tried to intercept Kurt. "You do realize you just dropped like three f-bombs just now? Calm down."

"I will not calm down! You know, I've been taking their shit for years and I'm tired of it. Because I'm the weak, gay-ass faggot and I figure, 'oh, I'm strong enough to survive whatever they throw at me and there's no need to resort to violence' – well I'm fucking tired of it and I swear to God, the next derogatory word that comes out of anyone's mouth, the next time one person invades my goddamn personal space, I'll rip someone's throat out with my bare, well-manicured hands!" he screamed, panting. Puck could have sworn he was about to start foaming like some kind of rabid dog and he knew it was a really stupid idea, but sometimes his mouth worked faster than his brain.

"Like you could ever manage to unsheathe your claws... pussy." Everything happened in a split second. Mercedes grabbed Kurt, Finn shoved Puck backwards and tried to pull him into a run, and then all hell broke loose, because Puck's mind was still five minutes behind his mouth, and Mercedes, too surprised by the situation to keep a good grip, was not strong enough to hold the fully enraged Kurt back.


	2. Chapter 2

_1. Never apologize for acting on your instincts. Listening to your body – then taking action on what you hear – is the hallmark of heroic people._

When Kurt's fist met Puck's nose with eye-watering force, Puck belatedly realized that Kurt was still a guy, despite his obvious lack of masculinity, and then grinned, because at least that meant he could hit him back. He pulled back his fist to smash the little bitch's face in, paused to take in his fear and was surprised to see a lack of it.

"Your form sucks," Kurt growled, doing the unimaginable. He kneed Puck in the groin. Puck could vaguely hear his own gasp as he went down in a haze of pain. He really hoped no one else was seeing this and that he could somehow keep it from getting public. _Always so worried about what people think of me..._ he thought. _I'm gonna have broken bones any minute now and I'm worried people are going to find out who broke them. I kinda deserve this, though, _he mused as an extremely painful sensation shot through his ribs. He then remembered exactly why Kurt had made it onto the football team as kicker. And then he couldn't remember anything.

"Okay, that's enough!" Mercedes yelled. "Finn, stop watching Kurt kill Puck, and I mean kill, 'cause boy gonna die in a minute, and help me hold the crazy bitch back!"

Finn looked startled but jumped at Kurt, tackling him. Kurt began to punch and kick Finn until Mercedes caught him in a powerful bear hug and crushed him against the lockersl. "Down, boy," she said loudly. "Breathe. He's just being his usual stupid self." He continued to struggle for a few more minutes but eventually calmed down as he realized trying to squirm out of Mercedes' hold was pointless. She relaxed her grip. "You good?" Kurt nodded, then tried to sprint past her to get at Puck again. She grabbed him by the arm and pushed him up against the lockers again. "I said chill, baby. I'm gonna need you to calm the hell down before I let go of you." Kurt began to breathe deeply and Mercedes cautiously let go of him again. This time, he stayed put until he got a look at his own handiwork.

"Ohmygodtellmehe'sbreathing," said Kurt, so quickly it was one word.

Finn sighed. "Yeah, he's breathing, but, yeah, be scared: your life is probably over once he wakes up."

Kurt bit his lip. "I'm more scared that he's seriously hurt than any serious injuries I might end up with in the next few days..."

"You're too nice for your own good, Kurt," Mercedes sighed. "He had it coming."

Finn shook his head. "Yeah, but he couldn't have done it in like three different sessions? We have a game tomorrow."

Mercedes threw up her arms in disgust. "Is that all you think about?"

"That and basketball. And – well, you don't want to hear about that part."

She sighed. "So should we drag his sorry butt to a hospital?"

"No, no hospital," came a hoarse voice from the floor. Puck struggled to sit up. "I'm good – or not," he said, falling back down.

Kurt wanted to apologize – he'd been angry, and Puck had deserved a beating at the hands of the last person he'd expect to be able to manage it, but he didn't deserve to look like a crime scene. Technically, he was a crime scene, since Kurt was pretty sure what he'd just done qualified as assault and battery. He started to try an apology, getting out "I'm-"

"Don't say anything, asshole, until-" he paused to cough, and no small amount of blood was spat out then, "until I say something first. Are we even?"

"What?" Kurt asked, confused.

"Are. We. Even. For the locker thing?" Kurt was having trouble understanding and looking to Finn and Mercedes for help was proving to be useless. Puck groaned. "Listen, if you call it even for that locker-stuffing incident and never say a word about this to anyone – and that goes for you guys too, I mean _no one_ finds out who kicked my ass so thoroughly, I pretend I fell down two flights of stairs. Got it?"


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: In case anyone flips and gets pissy for Kurt's statement about "turning straight", don't. Every gay person has those moments after a particularly ridiculous moment with the same sex. Don't think this is gonna somehow turn into some kind of weird Kurt is straight scenario._

_4. Never apologize for asking for what you need. The answer to every question you DON'T ask is always no._

Kurt nodded silently.

"All right, I'm gonna assume that's a yes, and someone better drive me the hell home, because I can't see too great. My eyes are both all swollen."

Finn held up his hands. "Mailman incident. Nope. Bad idea. I don't like driving."

Mercedes shook her head. "Funny story – I don't know how to drive. I figure if I can get someone to haul my butt around for me..." She grinned.

Kurt swallowed. "Guess that leaves me."

"Are you gonna wreck the car in an attempt to finish me off this time?"

Kurt looked hurt. "No, of course not!"

"Humor, dude. Humor. It takes my mind off the excruciating pain of your multiple footprints on my torso."

"I'm s-"

"DON'T apologize, because then I'll have to think of another way to make that shit up to you. And I'm not saying I'm sorry for the lockers because I'm not."

"Liar," Finn said under his breath.

"What was that, asshole?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, so will you drive me home or not, Hummel?" Puck asked.

"Yeah, of course," he replied. "Give me a minute to get a towel or two out of my locker. I don't need you bleeding all over my car."

Puck scoffed. "You keep towels. In your locker." It was more a question than a statement.

"I get beat up a lot myself. Always be prepared. Come on, let's go."

Puck stumbled to his feet slowly. "Whoo, okay, dizzy. I haven't had my ass kicked that bad since... Well, I don't think ever. Teach me to underestimate little geeks like you. Wait, your car? If my car stays here how the hell am I getting myself to school tomorrow?"

Kurt knew he was going to regret it but it was sort of like Puck's statement that had set him off earlier. "I'll pick you up for school tomorrow, too," he sighed.

"Well, if you're gonna be a dick about it don't bother," he said. "I'll walk."

Finn interrupted. "I'll have my mom swing by and pick you up."

"Thanks, dude."

Kurt began walking, tired of waiting for his classmate to actually start moving, then flashed back to all the times he'd been at the other end of a fist and a vengeance, and slowed down. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, walking in a straight line after having your nose smashed into your face.

Mercedes mouthed, "call me later" and Kurt nodded. He still felt guilty and incredibly lucky that Puck was so willing to forget this. Guys were really insane and if they weren't so hot, Kurt would turn straight, he swore.

He held the door open for Puck and nodded towards his car. "This way," he said. When they got there, Kurt opened the door and arranged the towels on the seat. "Get in." He slammed the door shut after him.

"Where do you live?"

Puck started laughing.

"What?" Kurt asked, exasperated.

"In any other context I would accuse you of stalking me."

Kurt sighed. "You can get out and walk if you want to."

"Go out that way, make a left when you get to the turn, and drive straight for a while. I'll tell you what to do from there."

The two made the trip in relative silence, only speaking to give or clarify directions.

"So. Why aren't you killing me yet?" Kurt asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Puck looked at him and Kurt shuddered. It looked like someone had tried to stuff his face in a blender. Then he remembered he was the one who had done it and felt awful again.

"I guess it's some weird form of respect, and I knew something was coming some day." At Kurt's confused look, he explained. "Guys like me, they only respect other guys who are willing to crack their knuckles, then introduce those knuckles to someone else's face and back up their claims. You did say you were gonna... do something violent, I forget what, and I was the idiot who crossed the line. And after all the crap I put you through over the years, it was stupid to think you wouldn't try to get revenge at some point."

"Oh," Kurt said. It was all he could say.


	4. Chapter 4

_Wow. The response to this story (as compared to my other stories) has been pretty big. I'm glad, because as I was writing it, I'm like "this is such a stretch and no one's gonna like it and – GAH I SHOULD HAVE GIVEN MORE EXPOSITION…" But you guys seem to like it. I'm glad! I forgot to send myself the list (I'm at school right now) but because I am a ninja, I have managed to locate it here. And surprise (and also FUCK MY LIFE) – there's 42 more reasons than I initially thought. Okayyy. This is gonna be REALLY long. Like, projected completion date looks to be three days after the world ends. *sigh* Guess it's a good thing, because I couldn't find a good one for this update until I found 38-79._

_52. Never apologize for things that make you laugh your ass off. Funny is funny. Don't feel bad for laughing. Don't look to see if the King laughed. Just let the humor wash over you. It's healthy._

"You apologize too much."

"What?" mumbled Kurt, still distracted by whatever he was thinking about (and incidentally, it was Finn. As usual).

Puck enunciated loudly. "You. Apologize. Too. Much."

"What do you mean? Of course I don't."

"Yeah, you do, and for the dumbest stuff. Like, for example. You kicked my ass and I swear if you ever tell anyone, you die, but I'm not mad, so why apologize. But I will be mad – bear right up ahead – if you tell anyone."

"Well, I'll be sure to apologize after the pictures are plastered all over school tomorrow."

"What?" Puck shouted.

There were a few seconds of silence before Kurt couldn't keep a straight face any longer. "You should have seen your face!" he laughed. "You should still see your face; you look like someone tried to make sausage out of it."

Puck grumbled, "That was you, you know."

Kurt wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, sorry, that wasn't funny."

Puck sighed. "Yeah, it was, I'm just being a little bitch about it right now. And see?"

"See what?"

"'I'm sorry, that wasn't funny.' You do apologize too much. You even apologize for jokes."

Kurt gave him a look, then quickly turned back to the wheel. "Right or left?" He turned right, then slowed down to obey the traffic signs. "Besides, you're one to talk. You've probably never apologized in your life. You just take what you want and damn the consequences."

"No, it's not – I – okay, it's not like I've never apologized before, all right? I just don't think most of the things I do warrant an apology," he explained, blanching at the look on Kurt's face.

"'Don't warrant an apology?' What planet's social rules do you follow?"

Puck shrugged. "It's coming up here on the left. That one right there." Kurt slowed, then pulled to a stop. "So… Uh. Thanks. I think." Kurt nodded as Puck hopped out. They were both secretly relieved that Puck had not bled too much in the car. The towels were barely spotted with red. It looked more like someone had sneezed while having a nosebleed. Kind of bizarre, actually, but neither one of them were about to question it.

"Wait, how do I get out of here?" Kurt asked.

"You don't have like a GPS or something?" Puck said in disbelief.

"No, mine went completely nuts a week ago and has been attempting to drive me off of bridges, so we sent it back to the company," he said.

Puck rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Which means you're going to have to come inside, and we'll Google map it, and then you'll go home, and I really hope no one sees any of this, because they will get the wrong idea – SHIT. The door is locked, and I don't have my key."

"Never mind. I'll find a way out of here somehow."

A yellow school bus pulled up and a little girl with dark brown hair bounded off of it and ran screaming towards Puck. "And the little terror's home," he muttered.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" she said, awestruck.

"Fell down some stairs."

"Like when Mommy fell down the stairs?" she said quietly.

Puck froze. Kurt was either not paying attention or pretending not to pay attention, and Puck was grateful for that much. He floundered briefly, torn between two evils which seemed fairly equal. He really hated it when his little sister was more insightful than she should have been.

"Kinda like that," he murmured. "So," he said, brightening up, "tell me you have your key." She produced a house key, sighing, and unlocked the door.

"Come on, let's go." He ushered his sister in the door and gestured to the other boy.

_Author's Note 2: I had another idea for a fanfiction... Exactly how badass do you guys want Kurt to be? Because if we like badass Kurt, I can merge the new idea into this one. Unfortunately that means you'll have to suffer an original character, but not a Mary Sue by any means._


End file.
